Teach me more
by LadyNightRunner
Summary: It started with sword lessons, but then he began having dreams, and they were so close to each other every day. He decided to make something of his affections. After all, what Rufus wants, Rufus gets.


This is a request from Deinde, who said simply Seph/Rufus and left it at that. While I was up to my ears in two other request fics, one of which was delightfully smutty, thank you very much, I had the mental image of Rufus in a cadet's uniform, associated it with this request, and this is what happened. I'm not a supporter of the pairing, but damn if it wasn't fun as hell to write. Enjoy! DOn't forget to review and vote!

* * *

"Tseng?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I want to learn to fight."

"You already-"

"With a sword."

"I doubt your father would approve."

"Who cares?" Rufus snorted. "He never pays attention to what I do unless I do it in public."

Tseng sighed. Obviously, his fourteen year-old charge wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"Alright. I'll find someone who-"

"I want Sephiroth to teach me."

"The _General_?" Tseng sputtered.

"Yes."

"But-"

"He's the best, and I want to learn from the best."

"He may say no."

"I'll learn from his lieutenant, then."

"I'll see what I can do, sir."

Satisfied, Rufus turned his attention back to his book. Beside him, Tseng began to formulate what would hopefully be a winning argument to present Sephiroth with.

--

"Absolutely not. I am-"

"A very busy man, I understand, but this wasn't my idea."

"I don't have time to teach a pampered child how to handle a sword," Sephiroth muttered. "Besides, his father will crucify me if anything happens to him."

"That argument hasn't worked on him yet."

"What if I say no?"

"I ask Zachary."

"And if he says no?"

"Then one of you will receive a written and signed order from him. As Vice President, that would be an order you couldn't refuse. You'd simply be doing it by force rather than choice."

Sephiroth groaned.

"_Why_ does he want to learn?"

Tseng shrugged.

"I have no idea."

"Alright, I'll do it. But…find some way to teach him the fundamentals first."

--

One week and a copy of _Swordplay for Beginners_ later, Rufus strutted out onto the ground floor for the SOLDIERs gym. Around him, men and a scattering of women sparred, lifted weights, and generally ignored him. Sephiroth stood in the center of a practice ring near the far corner. Rufus was disappointed to see that he'd traded his impressive armor and leather for lightweight black pants and a black tank top. All that impossible hair was twisted into a braid that didn't look the slightest bit feminine. He carried a dull, blunted practice sword in each hand.

"I assume Tseng gave you a crash course in this?" he asked. Rufus nodded. "And you practiced?"

"Yes."

"What with?"

"A yardstick."

Sephiroth sighed. He'd been hoping Rufus had worked with something heavier, like a baseball bat.

"Here," he said, offering one of the swords to Rufus, hilt first. "Show me your stance."

Rufus nearly dropped the sword, recovered, and settled into a position that made Sephiroth wince.

"Move your feet together," he said shortly. Rufus did. "Not that close. Put them shoulder-width apart."

"What?"

"Even with your shoulders."

Rufus came close, and Sephiroth decided to leave it be for now.

"Your hands shouldn't be so close together. Slide the- which is your dominant hand?"

"My left."

"You're holding it wrong, then. The dominant hand is on top. Swap them, and keep two inches of space between them."

"But I thought-"

"Most movies are disgustingly inaccurate. If _anything_ you are doing is based off of one, stop doing it immediately."

Rufus slouched sulkily.

"Stand up straight."

He didn't.

"That was not a request."

"You can't tell me what to do," Rufus snapped.

"Yes, I can."

"Cannot!"

Sephiroth took two steps forward and leaned down beside Rufus, whispering in to his ear.

"Have you heard what I can do, Rufus? When I'm pushed to far? I can tear a man apart with my bare hands. And I don't get penalized for it. I'm unstable, and you can't blame me for that."

"But-"

"You asked for me to teach you how to handle a sword. You used thinly veiled threats to do so, but I agreed. As far as I am concerned, that makes you nothing more 

than another soldier under my command. As long as I am your teacher, you will do what I say, when I say it, and you will not question it. Understood?"

Cowed by the angry light in Sephiroth's eyes, Rufus nodded silently.

"Good. Stand straight. Keep your elbows away from your sides."

--

By the end of the week, Rufus was thoroughly fed up with his lessons. They happened every day at three, whether he wanted them or not. Two hours later, he returned to his quarters sore and exhausted, hardly in the mood for dinner or socializing.

"I hate this," he complained to Tseng.

"Like any other tool of battle, the sword takes much work and pain to master. More than purely physical arts, because the sword is not a flesh and blood part of you. You have to make it an extension of your body."

"You sound just like him," Rufus grumbled. "What do _you_ know about swords?"

"Plenty," Tseng said evenly. "I was trained to fight with one when I was younger than you are now."

"Were not."

"Sir, I was born and raised in Wutai-"

"I _know _that. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Most children are trained to fight as soon as they can walk. Those of us who show skills in mulitiple areas are trained in all those areas. I happen to be very good with a sword."

Not like him," Rufus said dismissively.

"Very like him. Masamune is styled after a katana, the sword that I trained with."

"You could have said something before I made him teach me."

"I cannot teach, sir."

"Why not?"

"Personal reasons."

Rufus opened his mouth to protest. Tseng shook his head and tapped the dot on his forehead. Rufus sighed in defeat and slumped in his chair. Never ask about the dot.

--

At the end of the third week, Rufus was beginning to accept the strenuous hours of work Sephiroth put him through. Sephiroth had managed to get Tseng in on it, and the Turk faithfully reminded Rufus to practice in the mornings, with a blunt sword Tseng had brought him.

Now that there was a pattern to the work, rather than constant corrections, Rufus could take more time to appreciate the new world he had stepped into. The SOLDIERs and their gym were nothing like the pampered, perfumed people and rounded edges of the high society he was used to. Here, things were dirty, sharp, hard, and had absolutely no reason to grovel at his feet. It was alternately liberating and very annoying. One thing he enjoyed, though, was the knowledge that he was being trained by the most feared warrior on the Planet. Not that he'd needed anything else to brag about in the first place, but this wasn't something _anyone_ could one-up him on.

--

One Wednesday afternoon, Sephiroth led Rufus to another part of the gym, off the main floor where they usually worked. It was set into the wall near the south hallway, one wall formed from clear plastic.

"What are we doing?"

"Target practice," Sephiroth said simply, closing the door behind them. He took what looked like a much smaller version of a Buster Sword off the wall and handed it to Rufus.

"What?" Rufus asked, weighing the sword in his hands. It was heavier than he was used to.

"That-" Sephiroth pointed at a small gray machine sitting at the other end of the room "- will shoot projectiles at you. You will strike at them. Those you don't hit will hit you, and the force behind them is enough to sting. Ready?"

"Wait- what?"

Sephiroth ignored him, just strode to the machine and flipped the switch. It whirred, several lights blinked on, and something the size of a tennis ball shot in Rufus' direction. He yelped and swatted at it with the sword, and it bounced into the wall.

"This isn't badminton!" Sephiroth roared from his safe location behind the evil machine of doom. "Use the sword properly!"

Several dozen shots later, Rufus was bruised and panting. Not only was the sword heavier, but the broad blade made for some serious wind resistance. Swinging it was like trying to swing something much larger.

"We're going to keep doing this until you get it," Sephiroth yawned.

"I don't know _how_ to get it!" Rufus yelled. "I've never used this kind of sword before!"

"Versatility is what keeps you alive as a human being. Learn to channel it into this exercise."

"_How_?"

"I can't teach you instinct. Try again."

"Wait! Don't- Ack!"

Another round passed. Rufus managed to hit one, mostly out of sheer luck, because flailing around with the sword wasn't particularly effective.

When the rain of projectiles stopped, he threw the sword at Sephiroth.

"I can't do this if I don't know what _this_ is! Tell me what I'm supposed to be doing!"

"I don't respond well to orders from children."

"I am not a child!"

"You're behaving like one."

"Are you _surprised_? I want to _learn_, not be your entertainment! I've seen you drilling the recruits! You give them more instruction than you give me, and there are dozens of them! If I'm only a soldier under your command, then why don't you treat me like you treat them?"

Sephiroth considered this for a minute, then reset the timer on the machine and headed towards Rufus. He scooped the sword up on his way.

"Take your stance," he said quietly.

"But I don't-"

"Take it without the sword."

Rufus obeyed. Sephiroth stepped up behind him and leaned over, so Rufus was touching him from shoulders to thighs, and reached around to press the sword into Rufus' hands.

"I can't tell you how to react, but I can show your body to do it. Ready?"

"I-"

The first ball shot towards them. Sephiroth took half a step forward, pushing Rufus' leg forward as he did so, and swung, taking Rufus' arms with him. The ball hit the flat of the sword with a satisfying smack and dropped to the floor, all its momentum stolen.

Sephiroth led him through the entire round, pushing or pulling Rufus through the first couple of shots before the teenager learned to feel his movements and move with them. When the round was over, not a single ball had made it past the sword.

"Wow."

"Now we'll see if you can do it alone," Sephiroth said, stepping away. Rufus shivered at the lost warmth.

In the next round, Rufus hit at least half of the balls properly. Behind the machine, Sephiroth nodded faintly, acknowledging the accomplishment.

--

"_You're ready to learn with a live blade."_

"_A what?"_

"_A sword with a sharp edge. One that can be used to kill."_

_It was a shorter version of Masamune that Sephiroth handed him. A katana, Tseng had called it. It felt graceful in his hands, not like the rude, base weight of the practice swords._

"_And now we spar."_

_Sephiroth drew Masamune. It was the first time the sword or Sephiroth's trademark battledress had appeared during lessons. Rufus felt quite proud of himself. The leather and armor was as much protection as it was decoration, and wearing it for Rufus meant that there was at least some small threat, now that Rufus had a real sword to use._

_He wasn't as good as he would have liked, but he countered enough of Sephiroth's strikes to keep himself safe and to earn a few appreciative grunts when his own strikes screamed against Masamune._

_Rufus swept his sword down and around, a move he'd seen Sephiroth use when he sparred with Zack. Sephiroth hopped to avoid it, landed wrong, and stumbled. Rufus pulled his sword back to avoid impaling the General and wound up getting pinned under him when he fell. Sephiroth's hair, loose for a change, fell over him, filling his nostrils with the smell of sweat, leather, and the faintly spicy smell of Sephiroth's shampoo. Rufus inhaled deeply, feeling the straps that held Masamune's sheath against Sephiroth's back rub and catch on his shirt. The leather of his coat and pants was slick under Rufus' hands._

"Sir, you have a press conference in forty-five minutes. The next time I come in here, it will be with an air horn."

Rufus rolled over groggily.

"Wha?"

"Good morning. Go take a shower. Breakfast will be waiting when you've collected yourself." Tseng left, closing the door behind him.

Rufus sat up, rubbing at his eyes and reliving the dream. There had been others, but Sephiroth had never fallen on him before. It had felt…nice.

--

"Pay attention," Sephiroth growled. "Losing your focus in a fight will get you killed."

"What?"

"Did you hear a word of what I just said?"

Rufus shook his head. He'd been paying attention, but to the way Sephiroth's mouth moved, not what he was saying.

"Which further supports my point. Pay attention. Now, take your stance."

Less than two minutes later, Rufus was on his back on the floor with a bump on the side of his head and Sephiroth kneeling over him.

"What did I just tell you?"

"Pay attention?"

"_Exactly_! How many fingers am I holding up?"

"I'm okay, really."

"How many?"

"Three."

"Thank you. Hold still and let me look at that."

"What-ow! That hurts!"

"Of course it hurt. If I wasn't holding back with you, I could have cracked your skull with that strike. Or taken the top of your head off, depending on the weapon. Now do you understand why you have to pay attention?"

Rufus blinked. Sephiroth was awfully close, and while it wasn't an exact replica of the dream scenario, it was close. He reached up, grabbed Sephiroth's braid, and yanked him down into a clumsy kiss. It was more a serious bruising of lips than a kiss, complete with a cut on the inside of Rufus' mouth that bled profusely. When Sephiroth collected himself enough to jerk back, there was blood on his lips and smeared onto his cheek. It looked almost like lipstick.

"Wh-" he began, then stopped. "The lesson is over."

"Over? But it's only-"

"I said it's over."

--

Sephiroth cancelled the lessons for the rest of the week, leaving Rufus to practice alone and sulk. He'd kissed him. They'd kissed, and Sephiroth had acted as if he were repulsive. Maybe the rumors about him liking men weren't true after all. Maybe Zachary had gotten his post through ability in battle, not in bed. Perhaps they really were nothing beyond friends. The thought was a disappointing one; Rufus had been looking forward to making his dreams a reality.

"Tseng?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Will you spar with me?"

"With my hands. Not with a sword."

"Why not?"

"It's a matter of honor, sir. I'd rather not discuss it."

"I could order you to."

"Would you?"

Rufus hesitated, then sighed and slumped further into the couch.

"I don't understand you."

"That was my intent."

"I don't understand _him_, either."

"No one understands the General," Tseng said simply.

"Zack does."

"Zachary is a special case. No one really understands what it is he has that lets him get along with the General the way he does. Does it really matter?"

"_Yes_. I don't like being ignored."

"Then perhaps you ought to avoid doing things to make him uncomfortable."

"Like _what_?"

"I don't recommend kissing him in public, for example. Or at all, if you can help it."

Rufus blushed.

"You heard about that?"

"I was watching the security cameras. You're lucky there wasn't anyone watching in the gym- that could have destroyed both of your reputations."

"Everyone says that he's gay anyway," Rufus pouted. "What difference would it make?"

"Gossip is one thing. Apparent proof is another. While everyone may be saying it, no one has concrete evidence, and that keeps him safe."

"Do you know if it's true?"

"I have no idea."

--

Sephiroth finally cancelled the lessons for good, handing them off to Zack, who was more than willing to teach Rufus. He was fun, but not the same. Rufus stuck with him for the in it gave him, and all the information he could learn about Sephiroth. Sephiroth and Zack were friends, so something about Zack had to be the draw.

There was nothing about Zack he could emulate. Irritated that Sephiroth's friend _had_ to be someone as unusual as Sephiroth himself, Rufus resorted to the last available option: late one night, after the night guard had taken over for Tseng, he snuck out of his quarters and into the stairwell. Sephiroth's rooms weren't in the ShinRa building anymore, but he could handle that. A trip to the laundry when Reno had been taking Tseng's place and was too busy flirting to pay attention had yielded a cadet's uniform. This, plus the practice sword Tseng had brought him, made a perfect cover. Just another cadet, recently freed from his shift of sentry duty, or perhaps running an errand for a higher up. Cadets were, after all, the universal gofer. No one stopped him, even when he typed in the override code for the main doors of the SOLDIERs residential building.

Sephiroth lived on the top floor, not by choice but by luck. Rufus sweated up every single flight of stairs, wondering what would happen is he was caught. Questions about his squad he could answer, but if anyone tried to make him take off the helmet, he was going to be in for it. His father would certainly hear about it, and there'd be hell to pay. He'd just have to keep from getting caught.

--

There were two locks on Sephiroth's door. One was the kind that took a key card, and the other was an old-fashioned lock that took a normal key. Lucky for Rufus that Reno had taught him how to pick both kinds. A little twisting with the key lock, some fiddling with the card lock, and he was in.

Sephiroth's quarters were far more normal than he'd been expecting: Charcoal colored carpeting, black couch and armchairs, black and white checkered tile in the kitchen, a collection of ornate knives displayed on one wall, and what looked like a bathrobe thrown over one of the armchairs. There were bare feet visible around the edge of the half-wall that separated the kitchen from the living room. Rufus hesitated at the dividing line where tile became carpet. Should he keep going?

A soft sigh came from the direction of the feet, and they shifted, as if the owner was rolling onto his side. Rufus relaxed a little. Sephiroth- or whoever was over there- was asleep. Feeling a bit more confident, he tip-toed into the living room and peered over the back of the couch. Strong hands grabbed his shoulders and yanked him over it, slamming him down on the coffee table.

"_What_ do you think you're _doing_, cadet?" Sephiroth growled.

"I-I-I…" Rufus fumbled. He'd come prepared with excuses, if he was caught, but he'd been expecting some other SOLDIER to catch him, not Sephiroth himself. Tongue-tied, he struggled against the iron grip holding him to the glass and steel of the coffee table.

"You have no business here." Sephiroth reached for the helmet, pulled it off none too gently, and tossed it aside. "Give me your name and- Rufus?"

"Yes?"

The hand on his chest vanished as quickly as it had come, leaving Rufus limp on the table. Sephiroth pulled back to the couch, staring at him. Rufus stared back, admiring the combination of no shirt and low-slung pajama pants on Sephiroth. His hair was loose.

"What are you doing here?"

"Why did you stop teaching me?" Rufus asked, ignoring Sephiroth's questions.

"You kissed me. I was teaching you how to handle a sword, not to lust after things you can't have."

"Who says I can't have you?"

"I do," Sephiroth said firmly.

"Why?"

"You're _fourteen_ years old!"

"I'll be fifteen in a couple of months," Rufus said mulishly, rolling onto his side so he could look at Sephiroth without getting a crick in his neck.

"But you won't be legal for another three years."

"So? Legal doesn't have anything to do with it. We're both above the law. You're unstable, and I'm the son of President Shinra. We can do whatever we want."

"Call it personal morals, then. I refuse to express interest in a child."

"You liked it when I kissed you," Rufus purred. "You quit because you liked it and you liked me."

"No."

"Yes. You're blushing."

And he was. A pretty flush of color was spreading across Sephiroth's face. Pointing it out only made it darker.

"It's only wrong if I don't want it, right? If I want it, all your moral ground turns to quicksand."

"If anyone found out about-"

"The Turks are very good at negotiating with the press."

"It isn't the press I'm worried about."

"The whole company thinks you're gay already. The only difference I would make would be _who_ you were sleeping with."

"No. I can't."

"But you _want_," Rufus said smugly. "Couldn't this push you too far? Make you do something stupid?"

"I'm _already_ doing something stupid."

"Oh? You're still listening to me, even though you say you don't want to have anything to do with me. In your shoes, I'd call that stupid."

"Yes, but-"

"But nothing. I want you. You want me, at least a little, because you haven't thrown me out or called my father yet. I'm consenting, so it isn't rape."

"Don't tempt me."

"I already have. I kissed you, didn't I? Isn't that tempting enough?"

Sephiroth said nothing. Rufus watched his hands tighten on his knees. He was getting awfully tense.

"I can stay here for awhile," Rufus reminded him.

"I can throw you out my window."

"No, you like me too much for that. I doubt I would be half as pretty if I was a greasy spot on the pavement. Unless that sort of thing turns you on."

Before he could blink, Rufus found himself yanked off the table and into Sephiroth's lap. The General bent over him, his hair forming something like a tent or canopy over them.

"And if it does?" Sephiroth asked dangerously. "What if I like blood and pain?"

"Then I can learn to like it too," Rufus said silkily. "If you want to teach me."

Sephiroth hesitated, then bent even further and kissed Rufus carefully.

"I don't," he murmured.

"Don't what?"

"Like pain."

"I don't mind it anyway."

Sephiroth sighed heavily and pulled Rufus into something approximating a sitting position, which put him at a better angle to be petted.

"You have a lot to learn," he said, stroking Rufus' hair.

"I'm willing to learn," Rufus said, nuzzling Sephiroth's hand. Sephiroth's lips curved into his trademark smirk.

"I bet you are."


End file.
